


shadows settle on the place, that you left

by orphan_account



Series: from the perfect start to the finish line [2]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, monarchy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-05 14:10:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3123077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura loves and she learns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Laura's version of the events in 'we are the reckless, we are the wild youth'.
> 
> Did I have any other choice but to write more for this after the overwhelming response that 'we are the reckless, we are the wild youth' got? No, not really ;)
> 
> Also, so many thanks goes out to tumblr user zefrumiousbandersnatch for the monarchy AU art. You guys should go check it out, it's fantastic!

 

You realize that you've royally screwed up and fallen for your best friend when you're standing on the blue line during the national championship game and you see her face across the ice on the other side of the glass.

You get so lost in her presence and in the fact that she's here for you and this sport you love so much that you freeze for a moment before managing to collect yourself.

Two shifts later, you think it's safe to look over at her again and you spot the poster in Will's hands and you laugh because you think of the small smile that must have appeared on Carmilla's face when Will presented her with this product and god, of course her brother is completely adorable too and you have to spray your face with water before you can focus again.

You're not sure how you manage not to kiss her when she gives you a hug after the game.

 

* * *

 

You cry a little bit while sitting in History class when you think about the fact that Carmilla probably does not return your feelings.

She's not shy about speaking her mind and telling you how she feels about things. Example A being her long letters about how messed up the media and society are for promoting surveillance of the lives of people, namely her, as entertainment. So if there's anything on her end of things, you'd surely know it by now, right?

Right?

 

* * *

 

It's a lot different, having Carmilla in your space rather than being in hers.

First of all, it makes it _extremely difficult_ not to touch her when half of what she's wearing came from your closet because _she looks like she's yours_. And having her in an environment you never used to associate with her before does things to your brain like make it wonder what kind of bedsheets she prefers or if she likes to sleep with the light on or off and that leads to your brain sprouting ideas about what your shared space would look like if the two of you moved in together at some point in the future.

And that leads to more of musing about Carmilla's hypothetical feelings and you don't want to go there anymore.

 

* * *

 

You're sitting on the floor of your bedroom raging internally and externally about the English media while eating McDonald's and Carmilla is with you and saying sweet things and you know that if she comes any closer to your person, you will lose it and possibly confess undying love for her so you sit, but do so in a way that will enable you to scoot away from her if needed.

But then she says _they only love you_ and _they get upset they don't get to keep you_ with a soft look on her face and you're completely charmed by her and a little bit afraid of how much you want to grab her and never let go.

"Do you?" You ask, all sorts of breathless.

"Do I what?"

There is an internal debate then that causes your insides to act as if you'd eaten a black hole.

"Get upset that you don't get to keep me?" _Love me?_

You watch her carefully and curse the training she's put herself through to keep her facial expressions neutral because you cannot read a damned thing from the way she's looking at you right now.

And then there's that smirk. And you're pretty sure you ate like a hundred black holes.

"With a pretty face like that, sweetheart? Of course I do."

It breaks your heart a little bit.

 

* * *

 

You're sixteen and it's a whole different kind of heartbreak when your Dad calls you at an ungodly hour of the morning.

He's usually very good with keeping track of timezones and knowing you're a full eight hours behind, but here you are, ringing phone in hand, trying to rub enough sleep out of your eyes so you can answer it.

"Dad." You say, yawning. "Hi."

All you can hear on the other end of the line is him breathing for the longest time, but you don't hang up, instead you try to shake yourself out of slumber. The longer the silence goes, however, the more panicked you start to become.

"Dad. What's wrong?"

He's crying, you've been good at being able to tell ever since you were six and holding his hand at your mother's funeral, and it's making tears well in your own eyes.

"Dad." You repeat. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sick, Laura." He says and yeah, that sound is your heart hitting the ground, probably. "I'm not doing well. And I wanted you to know before anyone else."

"What do you mean?"

"I have cancer." He says simply.

And god, you're crying so messily and you're pretty sure inhuman noises are coming out of your mouth much too loudly because LaFontaine comes in without knocking after a few minutes and Perry is right behind them, plucking the phone out of your hands.

"Hello." She says into it in all of her Perry-cheerfulness while you're muffling your wailing against your own arm and trying not to get tears and snot all over LaFontaine. "Sir. Yes. Yes, sir."

You don't miss the way Perry's voice breaks at her last 'sir'.

When the phone is hung up, it's pretty obvious all of you now know.

"Laura." Perry says and you want to cry because she never calls you that, she sticks to your highness while LaF is the one dealing out nicknames for you, but you can't possibly be crying any harder than you already are so you let it go.

"I'll - " you inhale deeply and it turns into a grief stricken whimper that you want to never hear from your own mouth again. "I'm going back to bed. You should, too."

You're not sure when they leave because you're too busy lying in your bed, trying to stop the havoc that has set itself loose in your chest.

 

* * *

 

You call Carmilla.

It's like three in the morning where she is when you finally have the mental capacity to hit call on your cellphone.

"Hello?" She says and you can tell that you've woken her up.

"Hi." You say. "How was your day?"

If she's confused about why you're asking or angry that you're asking her this at this late hour, she doesn't show it.

"Fine." She says slowly and you can picture her sitting at the edge of her bed, slouching. "How was yours?"

"I'd rather hear about yours to be honest."

She accepts that and you're thankful that she starts going on about her prissy History tutor and the fact that she's angry her mother wouldn't let her find a Latin tutor for herself and yeah, your heart is still on the ground, but she's making it start beating again.

"Carmilla." You finally say, cutting off her story about how she's learning how to drive.

"Yeah?"

"Will you remember this?" You hear her yawn over the line. "In the morning, will you remember this?"

She laughs in that raspy way of hers that makes your toes tingle on a regular day. Today it does nothing but settle you.

"Probably not. It's late."

"I love you." You say because these next few years are going to be hell, you can feel it and you want her to know, on some level, how you feel right now. Even if she does end up forgetting it.

"Why, Laura Hollis." Her voice is husky in your ear and you love her. "I dare say our phone conversations are marginally more forward than the letters we exchange."

You laugh and you hate yourself for it because she makes you so happy, but your father is dying and happiness should not even be on your spectrum of emotions right now.

"Goodnight, Carm."

"Sleep tight, sweetheart."

You know by the next letter you receive that she definitely forgot about your phone conversation by morning.

 

* * *

 

Your Dad manages to convince you not to come home until school lets out for the year so you stick it out, but your grades kind of fall off because your Dad has cancer and he's been told he doesn't have long and you feel like graphing equations is a complete waste of time when you could be with him, helping him fight this.

But he sounds more put together on the phone these days and he's told the world about his cancer so it's no longer eating him alive inside, at least metaphorically because you're pretty sure it is literally eating him alive.

Carmilla had called you when she figured out and she didn't get angry that you didn't tell her or anything like that. She only listened to you while you cried for hours on end.

You write her back when she writes you, but you're so tired of living the life you are that you don't even want to write her about it and nothing of substance ever materializes from your communication anymore. You hope she understands that you want to be hearing about her life but don't want to share yours with her at present and that's selfish of you so you get it when the letters start to come only once or twice a month instead of weekly.

And yeah, that kind of hurts, but you hope she'll still be there when this is all over and your Dad gets better and maybe you can make it up to her.

 

* * *

 

You get caught up in it all so quickly that sooner rather than later, Carmilla's slipped through the cracks, through your cracks to be specific because this is breaking you more than anything else ever has.

You travel with your Dad like you used to when you were younger and you go to all of his meetings and you don't cry in front of him.

Not once.

At least not until he looks at you one day on the plane and he says,

"You're going to make an incredible queen."

 

* * *

 

He dies on a Tuesday while he's in the hospital and you're sitting in the chair beside his bed reading a book you once saw on Carmilla's bookshelf.

"Laura." He says after several hours of running silence and you immediately hit the call nurse button. "Listen, Laura."

"I'm listening." You say and there aren't any tears.

Maybe you've finally run dry.

"I want you to be happy. I love you." He says. "I want you to be happy."

"Okay, Dad." You say as the nurse comes in. "You made me happy, okay? Every day, even if I didn't have Mom, I had you and that was more than enough."

"A little something for the pain?" The nurse asks.

You nod in her general direction.

"You're going to be extraordinary." He says and his eyes are slipping closed, his face softening.

"And you're going to be with me, okay? Stay with me, Dad."

And you hold his hand while he sleeps and slips away and you don't cry, but you wish you could.

 

* * *

 

The funeral is brutal.

You sit through it and then afterwards, when he's all underground and buried and gone, you get up to realize that a long line of dignitaries from other nations have lined up in front of you to offer their condolences and you roll your shoulders back, gesture to LaFontaine that it's alright and you face them head on.

You lose your composure when you see Carmilla because you didn't even expect her to - you've treated her horribly.

But that's all out the window when she reaches for you and you let yourself relax into her embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Laura."

"I'm trying so hard to keep it together, Carm - " You tell her because you think of all people she'd understand wanting the world to see you as something different from what you are but she cuts you off.

"It's okay to cry."

"I'm sorry I haven't made the effort."

"I understand." She says and you wonder if she really does.

"Thank you." You hug her again because you realize she's started smelling like home after all these years. "You're the best friend I've ever had."

You mean that with every broken piece of your soul.

 

* * *

 

You get a crown put on your head in front of like a million people a week later.

It feels strange and you're not against it, per se, but you do wonder how qualified you are for this job because you definitely did not finish high school.

You see a few familiar faces in the crowd. Carmilla is there and Will and their tall bodyguard. LaF and Perry are in the very front and you are so thankful for these people that you start to think this will all work out.

You look forward to visiting with Will and Carmilla afterwards and maybe tell Carmilla everything so she does understand it completely, but they are gone the minute the ceremony is over.

 

* * *

 

She writes you a letter, of course she does.

And it makes you cry for the first time since your father died because she sounds so sure of you and so proud of what you're going to do and it's too much especially when she ends it off at _you're going to make an incredible queen_ and you cry and cry and put the letter in one of your desk drawers.

You go to visit your mother's grave and then your Dad's and cry for them because they were both too young to die and you cry for yourself too because you're too old to feel like an orphan.

 

* * *

 

You handle your duties well enough to begin with because you've practically been doing them since before your Dad died and it's easy to go through the motions of attending things you need to attend.

Your advisers urge you to keep all of your events within Britain so you can build a rapport with the people so you do that, opening new football stadiums and christening ships have to be your favorite, and you do a lot of walking around and saying hi to people you meet.

 

* * *

 

Your first out of town event is a dinner with France's Minister of Foreign Affairs in Nice and you kind of hate yourself for thinking it, but man it is refreshing to get out of England.

LaFontaine and Perry agree that you walking on the rocky beach after dinner isn't a bad idea because you look like a tourist and they can just trail after you without causing too much attention, so you walk and you lose yourself in the sound of the waves and every now and then you throw a rock into the ocean. You go unnoticed until you almost run into a teenage boy who is a lot taller than you and looks very familiar.

"Laura." Will says and his lopsided smile tugs at your heart because he looks so much like his sister. "How are you?"

You immediately look past him in search of Carmilla but all you see is his smiling bodyguard and you try not to show your disappointment but he notices.

"She's at Harvard." Will says, still smiling. "She's been really excited to go."

"Has she?" You smile because you're glad for her, you really are.

"Well, as excited as she's ever let us seen her anyways." He turns so that you're facing the same direction and you begin walking again. "What are you doing in Nice?"

You laugh at how appropriate it is that you'd see each other here. And he looks at you like you're strange for a moment.

"I'm sorry." You say. "It's just that when we were younger, I was here playing frisbee with LaFontaine and I accidentally hit you in the face."

He rubs his cheekbones at the memory and you laugh even more.

"I remember." He says and you're struck by how young he is still, how undamaged his spirit seems to be and you hope he stays this way forever.

The two of you keep walking and you can hear LaF and Perry conversing with Will's bodyguard behind you like they're old friends and you guess they kind of are.

"Do you still play hockey?" Will asks you and you miss it so much in that moment that your throat clogs up.

"No, I haven't had the time." You say, thinking of the sound your skates make against the ice and how much you would give to be able to play again. "What have you been up to?"

He starts on about racing and at first you're taken aback because that's dangerous but then you see the look of absolute pure joy on his face and you smile because he's so passionate about it.

"What does your significant other think about that?" You ask because his girlfriend or boyfriend can't be pleased at the idea.

"Significant other?" He giggles. "I don't have one."

"How in the world can you not, William Eisen?" You tease and laugh at the look on his face. "I practically molded those cheekbones with my frisbee."

It's like old times, talking with Will and when you start to feel like you're going to pass out from lack of sleep and tell him so, he graciously offers all three of you a ride back to your hotel.

Before you get out of the car, Will reaches for your hand and you think he's going to kiss it like the old fashioned advisors do, but he refrains and presses a piece of paper into your palm instead.

"What's - " You start, but the look on his face silences you.

"She'd really appreciate a letter now and then." He says.

You want to cry.

Slowly, you unfold the paper he handed you and you hand it back.

"I'd like your number in there, too, kid." You say.

 

* * *

 

Your phone reminds you that it's Carmilla's birthday in a week and you start writing something but it turns into something like two thousand words of you telling her how sorry you are so you pick a generic Happy Birthday postcard from the pile in your office and mail that instead.

Afterwards, you drink for the first time in your life.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few years are full of people pressuring you to get married, trying to keep up a texting relationship with Will, and moving on.

It hurts for a long time and you don't know how to even start mending yourself because you can feel so many gaps in the way your brain works and the way your emotions function. It takes several anxious months before Perry manages to convince you that you _need to see someone about this_ because it's slowly _killing_ you.

You see a therapist and work out your grief and you slowly start to rebuild yourself and you find that there are bad days but mostly you can see that it's getting better, getting easier to smile in photos and say a cheerful good morning to Perry and LaFontaine like you used to and your fingers still shake when you're scared and you'd like your Dad to be holding your hand again in those moments, but it's getting better.

 

* * *

 

Will texts you her new phone number that you can't help but use when you're in Germany one night and drunk off of your face. She doesn't respond and you can't decide if you're thankful or disappointed.

 

* * *

 

You even see her once at the Grand Prix, she looks beautiful, but a bit wounded and you hope that you're the one who has inflicted those scars on her because you honestly can not think of what someone could do to hurt her worse than you probably did.

There's a moment, after Will wins the race and he hugs both of you, when contact becomes inevitable and so you say a quick hi and goodbye and she looks a little offended by it all and you close your eyes and hope that one day, maybe when you're friends again, you can laugh about this and you can laugh when you tell her how in love with her you used to be.

 

* * *

 

On one of the good days, your phone reminds you that it's once again Carmilla's birthday week, as if you didn't know this already.

You haven't sent anything since the postcard because Will says that that didn't go over well judging by the drunk call he got from her the night she received it. But the reminder sparks something in your brain and you remember the letter she sent you so long ago that's, to this day, tucked in a desk drawer in your study and you get up in the middle of the night to retrieve it.

It's crazy because the same drawer holds the first letter she ever sent you, you'd been using it as a bookmark for The Stranger which you haven't opened since the day your Dad died and probably never will again, so you take that out and you marvel at how she's grown. How _you've_ grown.

You think it's beautiful that you can see the difference in you through her writing and you want this again. You want to see an envelope on the kitchen table every Thursday with her handwriting on it and you want to hear about the stray cat of the castle that once broke one of Carmilla's guitar strings. You want her back. You've always wanted her back.

You stuff the old letter into an envelope because if it made you realize how much you need her and want her in your life then surely it'll do the same for her and if not, you'll keep sending letters every week until you get a reply or a restraining order.

You text Will _what's her address_ and he responds in two seconds flat with a heart eyes emoji at the end and you roll your eyes but smile nonetheless.

 

* * *

 

You cry when you wake up the next Thursday with a letter from her on your desk.

 

* * *

 

On the anniversary of your father's death, you happen to be in Berlin attending a summit.

Knowing that she's here in this city but not seeing her hurts and you learned a long time ago that taking action to stop yourself from hurting is the right thing to do because anything is better than letting it stew inside of you.

So you go and when she opens the door, you reach for her, _you will always reach for her_ , and she takes your hands in hers and steadies them. You hug her and you repeat your apologies against her shirt.

 

* * *

 

You're friends again but it's a lot different than before because both of you are wounded, you much more than her, thank god, and you're both older. And different from who you used to be.

She looks wary every time she sees you and you try to tell her stories about your life because you spent so long _not_ telling them to her but she always just reacts with a smirk or a half smile and you lose it at her one night.

You're so angry because you're trying your very best to keep the two of you together and you want to storm out of here and cool down, but then she's saying _I was in love with you for so long_ and you're done with having her but not really having her so you go over to where she's sitting and you kiss her.

It's - God, you see stars behind your eyes and you never felt this when you were younger with any of the girls you used to see on weekends in Vancouver. Carmilla is everything you've ever wanted and more and when she stands and pulls you closer, it feels like you've swallowed a hundred suns.

It's a lot of movement then. She's tugging you by the hips towards her bedroom and you're trying to get your hands under her shirt but it's tucked in to her pants so you have to pop the button of her incredibly tight jeans. The problem of course is that once that button is popped, your hands want to go _lower lower lower_.

She gasps into your mouth when your fingers scratch at her hipbone.

"Carmilla." You say when she slips a hand over yours and pushes you down. And bites at your neck and then you're slamming her against the nearest wall and your hand is in her underwear and her breathing has become wild.

"Please." She says.

Feeling her tensed around your fingers is like - 

_God, she's so beautiful_ and you don't know what to do with yourself. You don't know anything other than the fact that you need her to come right now or else your blood pressure will skyrocket so you move. Slowly at first but then she's all high pitched moans against your lips and your pace increases.

You drop to your knees in front of her after she comes because she's so hot and wet around you _still_ and you want to know what she tastes like and maybe you want to see how many times you can render her speechless before she has the presence  of mind to speak again.

Of course the plan kind of backfires because she tastes better than you could have ever imagined and you lose yourself quickly in the way her hands fist in your hair and the way the heel of the foot she's got thrown over your shoulder digs into your back and pulls you closer.

"Oh god." She's panting and you love this. You love her. "Laura. Laura. Laura."

And then she's pulsing around your fingers again and you can feel her body practically vibrating on your tongue and she looks absolutely wrecked and you're one hundred percent sure there's a smug grin on your face right now.

You withdraw from her and lick your fingers clean and she still looks dazed so you start kissing your way down her neck and you bite down and suck and you're getting drunk off of the smell of her skin and the way she tastes on your lips and god, _the way she's breathing_.

"Laura." She says in a voice so raspy that it sends a lot of your blood south and you push the jeans down all the way and completely off of her before she is able to grab your arm. "Bed."

You look at her and you _want_.

You want her now and forever and past that if that's possible and you wonder why you never took a chance when you were younger because she is everything.

"I've wanted this for so long." You say, tracing her jawline.

"Me too." She says, closing her eyes and leaning into the contact.

That kind of shocks you.

"You never said - "

"Neither did you."

"I was going to, but then all these things started happening and I got overwhelmed and I let you slip through the cracks." You want to kiss her so you do and you can't get close enough. "And I never could have dreamed that you'd be interested in me too - "

"Laura." She says and you look at her. Really look at her. "I love you."

Your breath catches and your head spins and you register her hands on your shoulders as she steps out of her pants.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She responds with a smile.

 

* * *

 

Carmilla is all sorts of amazing in bed.

She pushes you down into a sitting position on the bed and straddles you in her ruined underwear because yeah you were kind of in a rush and forgot to take those off of her and you're kissing and you can't breathe.

And her fingers are fast, she's got your shirt open within seconds and your stomach quivers at her touch and when she feels that happening, a playful grin appears on her face.

"You like that?" She asks, slipping a thumb under your bra.

"God, I like _you_."

"That's good." She says and it is not fair how steady her voice is right now. Your eyes screw shut when you feel her mouth at the center of your chest and trailing downwards. "How about this?"

She bites down on the skin of your hip and yeah, you like that.

There's a laugh and then it's all hands. Hers touching and yours in her hair, holding on.

"I'd love to play." She says, pulling your pants off and taking your underwear with them. "But I really just want to taste you."

And then she's got her mouth - _her mouth_ \- and you feel her _everywhere_.

" _Carm_." You're whining, you know this, but she's making you feel so good and you don't have any control over your vocal chords anymore. "Carmilla, _fuck_."

She pulls back and you can feel her smiling against the inside of your thigh.

"Is that any way for a princess to talk, Laura?" She asks and the smirk is so present in her voice.

"I'm a queen." You say, tugging on her hair to bring her mouth to your clit again and she resists for a second to look up at you with a smile on her face.

"Damn right you are." She says proudly.

And then her mouth is back where you need it and you're _gone gone gone_.

 

* * *

 

You wake up in the middle of the night hungry and so you go to the kitchen where both your dinners are still set out on the table. You have the garlic bread that untouched on Carmilla's plate and a glass of water and then you go back to snuggling her in bed.

"Where'd you go?" She asks after hissing at the cold hands that you press against her back.

"I was hungry."

"You ate plenty." She murmurs on a small chuckle and you swat at her arm because her voice is dripping in sex and she needs to stop that before you abandon the idea of sleeping and take her against the mattress again instead.

"You're lucky I love you."

She stiffens then.

"What, you didn't think I did?"

"You never said - "

"I did once already." You say, remembering. "On the phone when we were younger. Do you remember?"

"No."

"It was the night your mother got angry at you suggesting she hire you a Latin tutor."

She's silent and unmoving for a moment.

"I thought I was dreaming." Carmilla finally admits.

"Either way, I do love you. I loved you then, I love you now." You say and you're completely unprepared for the intensity of her mouth against yours.

"I've loved you a very long time." Carmilla says against your lips and you feel like you're skating at full speed.

"I love you." You offer, breaking the kiss to straddle her. You can't get enough of her mind, her body, everything about her.

You feel her gasp when you scrape teeth against her neck.

"Laura." She's breathing wildly again and it spurs you on.

"Carm." You answer.

"You are so good at this, it's almost illegal." She murmurs and you smile against her skin. "I don't even remember what I was going to say."

"We have all the time in the world." You say. "It'll come back to you."

 

* * *

 

LaFontaine and Perry tease you about getting laid for the remainder of the month. And when you emerge from your bedroom one Thursday wearing Carmilla's Phases of the Moon shirt that she had left behind when she texted you last week in the middle of the night _tell the guards to open up the gates_ and slept over before going back home the next day, LaFontaine guffaws into their bowl of cereal.

"What?" You ask, looking down at your skinny jeans and bare feet.

"You look like a teenager."

"Hipster Queen, only seventeen." Even Perry joins in.

You roll your eyes and grab a piece of toast before sitting down.

"Where's the mail?"

"Why?"

"It's Thursday. Carmilla's letters always come on Thursdays."

"You're _so_ married." LaF says and your stomach twists because you do want to be married to Carmilla. Like preferably right this moment because you can't imagine life without her and you are amazed you survived the past few years without her sarcastic remarks and affinity for wearing jeans to bed.

But she's in line for her own throne and you have no doubt in your mind that she's the one for you, but it becomes too difficult for your brain to work out the logistics of loving another queen with a schedule as busy as your own and sometimes you doubt it can work out.

But then she'll tell you she loves you in that fierce way of hers, like she's daring someone to contradict her statement, and you fully believe you can _make it_ work.

There are laws, about you marrying someone who is already the queen or king of their own state so you guess you'll have to do it in secret or not at all. There's no rush, though. You know how she gets when she's rushed into something and you don't want that.

 

* * *

 

But the next week she sends a letter about how she's argued with her mother again. This time it's about the fact that she's officially filed to abolish her right to inherit the crown and you can't stop yourself from walking to the nearest jewelry store and buying a ring.

You send Will a picture, asking if he thinks his sister would like it, but all you get is an _OMG_ and a _these all look the same to me, tbh_.

 

* * *

 

You'd never dreamed you'd be twenty two years old in an Icelandic hotel on the last night of your stay, pacing with your arms crossed and a ring held between your teeth.

It takes you another ten minutes of pacing before you let yourself into the washroom and finally just ask.

In a turn of events you don't see coming at all, she slips a ring on your finger too and then she's on her knees, pulling your pants down and you know what she wants, but you tease anyways.

"What do you think you're doing?" This would probably go better if you weren't so breathless right now.

Carmilla looks up at you then with playful eyes before she stands, grabs your hips, and hoists you up on the counter.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" She asks, smiling.

"I'm not - sure." You try to feign ignorance, but then you can feel her ring pressing against your skin and she's all yours in every single way and you've never been happier.

"I," She announces, leaning over you, a wicked glint in her eye. "am worshiping _my queen_."

 

**Author's Note:**

> This little AU is taking over my life, guys. Help me.


End file.
